A Chance With Death
by ThexBlairxWitch
Summary: Bunches of one-shot-ish things involving Clio, Nico, Percy, Annabeth, and anyone else canon.
1. I Learn the Dirty Secrets of Fandoms

**Hola. Here begins the collection of one-shot-ish chapters that I'm doing based on my OC for the Percy Jackson series. If you've read The Devil's Angel, you should know (and hopefully even love) our little Clio. If you haven't, I suggest you go read that now. It'll help. Or, maybe not, but you'll be entertained by it. Promise. **

**Basically, these chapters are fun ideas I come across, that don't necessarily fit into the plot of Devil's Angel. There's no specific time frame, just general. These will include anything that I may happen to think of, and also anything... that YOU GUYS come up with. That's right, if you can think of a good short chapter idea involving Clio and/or (preferably and) Nico, you can PM it to me or post it in a review. If I like the idea and think I can make something out of it, I'll probably write it. **

**Have fun, dolls! **

Annabeth and I sat talking in Percy's apartment, waiting for the return of the boys.

"You're kidding," I told her. "Even Percy's not that stupid!"

She shrugged. "I don't know. But I swear to the gods that's what this kid was doing."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Guys need to learn how to shop."

We sat in silence for a moment, contemplating.

"Hey," I said suddenly, 'You know what I heard from someone recently?"

She sat, waiting.

"You know how people have fandoms for your books?" Annabeth nodded, a little wary. "Some of them make fanart! They post it on, like DevArt. It's supposedly really cool."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why don't we check it out? I think we should be the judge of whether it's cool or not."

I stood and raced over to the computer, pressing the power button eagerly. As it booted up, Annabeth pulled a chair over. I scooted a few inches to the side so we could have equal views of the screen.

The computer finally turned on. I clicked open an Internet page and went to the DeviantArt homepage. When I got there, I asked Annabeth, "What should we look for first?"

She paused. "Um. Percy? Me? Grover? I dunno."

I typed in 'Percy Jackson' and hit enter. The page quickly filled with fanart.

"Oooh, look at this one!" I clicked on it. It was a digital picture of Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson on the Princess Andromeda, ringed by a huge circle of monsters. "You look fierce."

Wrinkling her nose, she clicked the next button. "My hair looks awful. Doesn't even look like me anyway."

I shrugged, and tilted my head at the next picture. This one featured Grover and Juniper snuggling.

"Awww," we both cooed.

"Still doesn't look like them," I observed, clicking next.

When she saw the next picture, Annabeth squealed in dismay and covered her face with her hands. "Turn it off! Turn it off!"

I just had time to see the picture before she pressed the monitor button. It was of her and Percy, a depiction of them as Greek god style statues. Meaning to say, naked in marble, clinging together. Like all the carvings on the outside of business buildings in New York.

"That one actually kind of looked like you two," I told her, eyes wide as I snickered.

"Don't say that!" she wailed. "Search something else!"

I turned the monitor back on and added 'Nico di Angelo' next to Percy's name. "Okay, you can look."

Annabeth slowly pulled her hands away from her face, just as I clicked on the first search result.

The piece of artwork that turned up was huge. I had to scroll sideways just to see the whole thing.

"That is awesome," Annabeth said appreciatively. I nodded my agreement.

It was a painting of Percy and Nico, and it looked like they were on the shore of LA. Well, Nico was. Percy was standing in the surf, zany kid of the sea god that he is. Surrounding Nico were hordes of undead skeletons pouring out of a crevice in the sand. Percy looked like he was in the eye of a miniature typhoon. They both wore wicked, determined grins, gripping their swords as they lunged towards each other.

"Who d'you think would win?" I asked after a minute of examining the details.

We looked at each other.

"Nico!" I burst out at the same time Annabeth blurted, "Percy!"

The two of us dissolved into laughter.

"Guess we'll never know," I giggled, clicking next.

We went through a few more Percy/Nico actions pieces, commentating the whole way.

"How many is this?" Annabeth wondered aloud as I pressed the next button yet again.

"This'll be the thirteenth," I informed her as the page loaded.

When it did, my jaw dropped open. Turning to glance at Annabeth, I saw that hers had done the same, and her face was quickly turning pink. We both sat staring, dumbfounded, at the picture, too shocked to move.

This one was a slightly sketchy pencil drawing of the boys engaged in a, may I say, very passionate kiss. And let me tell you, if the two of them actually _did_ have bodies like that, we'd be chasing them like cats in heat.

We were still gaping at that page when the front door opened. I scrambled to click the next button as Percy came bounding in.

"What are you two looking at?" he asked, peering over our shoulders.

I turned to him, sighing in relief that the page had changed in time. "Nothing important."

"Well then, let's see it."

I glanced at Annabeth and discreetly passed a hand across my forehead. She nodded, telling me she agreed. I saw Nico in the corner of my eye heading for the bathroom, and turned to look back at me.

The image that greeted me made me want to puke. Annabeth could barely get a surprised squeak out. Percy just stared open-mouthed like he couldn't think of a reaction.

This extremely detailed digital image featured the two boys once again, only this seemed to be a picture of them when they were younger, say the age they were supposed to be by the last book. And, can I say something? They were butt naked. Yes. One hundred percent, completely clothes-free. The sheets were glowing around them like moonlace, pillows scattered everywhere. Percy was holding Nico ever so gently, his face soothing, reassuring. Nico was hanging on to Percy's shoulders for dear life, and his expression was one of childish innocence, anxiety and fear, and excitement. His eyes were half-closed, and there was a fierce blush painted on his cheeks. Okay, now I probably was going to be sick.

"I'm not gay," Percy said finally, sounding faintly shocked and confused. He repeated the statement. "I'm not gay."

"What the hell are you guys looking at?" I heard Nico say. I turned to find him standing behind me, his face the polar opposite of the one in the picture. Actually, he looked like he might puke, too.

"Uh..." came my intelligent reply.

"I'm not gay," Percy once again informed us, turning imploringly to Nico.

"I sure as hell am not," Nico said, turning to respond to him and instantly regretting it. The moment their eyes met, they both glanced away and took a step in the other direction. "I must've missed some sort of memo here," he continued, looking critically at me. "Is this something you guys are into?"

Annabeth's face was glowing red, and I'm pretty sure mine matched as the two of us spent a good couple of minutes sputtering various versions of 'no'. Even after that, Nico was still looking at me strangely.

"Anyways," he said finally, sounding awkward, "in light of this... yeah, um, I'll be leaving. Clio, you can stay with Annabeth as long as you like."

Immediately, I sprang up, almost knocking the chair backwards. As he moved towards the door, I latched onto his arm.

Annabeth got up to see us off, still blushing madly but trying to act like things were normal, like we hadn't just seen what was basically an 'artistic' version of porn involving two members of our group, and the reason we were leaving had nothing to do with the fact that it was just too indescribably awkward to stick around. Percy followed her in a stupor, repeating his mantra of "I'm not gay".

Annabeth opened the door, mumbling, "See you later, guys," and staring at her feet. The last things I heard before the door closed were the familiar words, "I'm not gay," and her responding kindly, "I know you're not."

"Well," Nico said way too casually as we went down the stairs, "that was interesting, to say the least."

"Interesting is a kind way of putting it," I murmured, hand over my fretful stomach. "I think I'm gonna hurl."

"Now tell me. What I saw, was that it an unlucky coincidence that I saw it, or was it just unlucky?"

"Unlucky," I said hurriedly, clinging to him to try and prove my point. "So unlucky. We were just looking for fanart; we didn't think things like that would pop up. There was one of the two of them, too..." I shut up, realizing that I was rambling.

He laughed, hugging me closer as we stepped into the November chill. "Well, I'm only a little screwed up. Nothing a few... years of therapy can't fix."

"What was that?" I asked sharply.

"What was what?"

"You said something between the words 'few' and 'years'. What did you say?"

He shrugged. "Hundred."

I groaned and leaned my head on his shoulder. "Better make it group therapy. How much do you think I liked seeing that? I wanted to punch Percy's lights out, and it wasn't even his fault."

My comment elicited more laughter. "Note to everyone – don't look up anything from a fandom that you're involved in."

"Fandoms are dark, evil things." I shuddered, and there was a partly awkward silence.

We walked the rest of the way home in it.

**Well. What an episode. It's gonna take a bit more that a couple hundred years of therapy to fix that, darlins. Percy's IQ definitely took a hit of a couple thousand points. Annabeth... really doesn't know how to react. Poor thing. Embarrassed out of her wits. Who knew a moment of relief could be so brief? And Nico is just very, profoundly screwed up. Much more so than he lets on. **

**No hard feelings to those who do Perco stuff, but I don't go for it, personally. Doesn't work with my images of them. And as far as I know, none of the mentioned art pieces actually exist, so by all means, take em and run with em. DeviantArt needs more PJATO fanart anyway. I especially like the Percy Nico epic battle scene. **


	2. I Embrace Death

**It's been awhile…**

**Yes. It has. And it kinda sucks. Because I feel bad for it, but there were some very good reasons. My life has been all kinds of shit recently, and I haven't had any time to write. Any. At all. So when I finally got the chance, I had issues with finding my muse. Believe me, I really, really missed writing, about these two especially, but I just couldn't. **

**This is a little confusing, especially in the beginning, with all the perspective changes between past and present. Yes, it IS Clio and Nico. Of course it is. I accidentally wrote this entirely in third person the first time around, and had to go fix it, so forgive pronoun errors. **

I ran frantically down the steps of the escalator, my breath coming in little pants as my feet carried me endlessly downwards. My hair streamed out behind me as I continued, shoving past unsuspecting people standing in my way. In my haste, I nearly fell flat on my face, but managed to keep my balance through sheer determination.

I could hear his voice calling behind me. His voice, panicked as it reached over the hordes of people between us, drew tears to my eyes, tears which were quickly blurring my vision.

And I heard his voice again, this time in my head. Angry now, he was yelling at me in disgust, in disdain, in pure, unadulterated pain.

"You think I'm in the wrong here?! Well, look at yourself! If I'm wrong, you're just…" He swallowed, took a gasping breath, and said the next words with his eyes burning into me like shrapnel. "A shameless, frivolous, dirty whore." His voice, flat as it always was when he was furious, broke on the word 'whore'. When it did, it felt like the polished mirror that had held my life fractured, then shattered, cascading into a million pieces.

I kept running as I kept remembering. My feet pounded numbly down the stairs.

As I stared at him, mouth gaping open like a brainless fish, he punched the doorframe with the side of his fist, shook his hair into his eyes, and turned his face into the crook of his arm. We stood for the longest time, for what felt like longer than an eternity, an infinite number of minutes. Me staring blankly at him, him refusing to meet my gaze. I didn't know what he was thinking then; I didn't even know what I was thinking. I could barely breathe. It felt like someone had taken a knife and stabbed me, right in the spot where a punch would take your breath away. And the knife was twisting. I blinked and put a hand subconsciously to my stomach when his fist connected with the painted wood again.

He hit the frame twice more, softer this time, and each time I felt the nail he seemed to be hammering drive deeper inside me.

Finally he stood and, still not looking at me, ran both hands through his hair. "Look at what you've done."

Once more I found air. Taking a few sweet breaths of it, I closed my eyes and spoke softly. "Don't blame it all on me. It's not my fault. You made mistakes too."

"What did I do to deserve this?" He was looking at me now, face dark. Even this angry, he was so handsome; jaw lifted defiantly, hair mussed, fists clenching and unclenching. And he radiated the power of death. A thousand needles pressed relentlessly into my heart.

I felt it. That somber, pulsating energy he was emanating, it penetrated deep within me. I was drawn to it like a moth to a deadly bug lantern. It made me want to throw myself at him, and… let go.

Options. I swayed on my feet. Options… there were knives in the kitchen. And I knew his Stygian iron sword was hidden around here somewhere. Last time the blade of that had touched me, I had nearly died. We were also in an apartment up ten stories. Hell, we were in New York. I might as well take a step off of a curb, or walk down a dark alley.

Suddenly, I laughed. An unexpected burst of sound. I laughed at the situation, laughed at him, laughed in his face, unheeding of the way he recoiled from me. Something inside of me had broken, snapped. And my mind saw a clear light at the end of a dark tunnel.

I suddenly burst into motion, flying past him and making a beeline straight for the door. My hand flung it open, and I was out, racing for the stairwell. Wrenching that door open, I nearly threw myself down the stairs. He was behind me, shouting bewilderedly. I ran faster, my feet moving so fast, slipping down the stairs, they were a blur.

When I burst out the revolving doors of the lobby, street noises greeted me. I stood, considering. the thud of my numbered heartbeats the only thing in my ears.

Then I felt the rumble of the train beneath me. It welled up through my bones, a sweet promise that faded away. I dashed off in pursuit, searching for the nearest subway entrance. My bare feet pushed against the solid, rocky pavement.

Just in time. Nico had emerged behind me.

I continued to run down the escalator, my feet leaving a trail of blood on the metal stairs as my memories sped through my mind.

I had ran, the soles of my feet being shredded by unforgiving glass and stones, cigarette butts and gum sticking to them. Bumping into people, dashing through the street as a light changed, with Nico chasing after me, yelling. I couldn't hear him; I heard only my heart, thundering harder and harder in my ears. My mind was running along a single track, down a tunnel, towards that light.

I nearly threw myself down the subway stairs, and raced for the turnstile, hopping over it neatly, much to the chagrin of the guards. The palm of my hand snagged on a stray piece of metal, and the flesh tore open, spattering my cheek with some blood, but I hardly noticed as I dashed through the steady stream of commuters.

There were angry shouts behind me, coming from both the guards and the people Nico was trying not to run over. I considered briefly how thankful I was for my tiny stature, slipping through small gaps between people.

And now I was still running. This may have been the longest escalator on the face of the planet. I may have been running down the up escalator; it looked like the distance between me and the lower level of the station still hadn't gotten any smaller. I was running, running, endlessly downwards. I could have been running straight down to Hades. The wind whipped past my face, sounding like the shrieking of the three Furies.

Part of me wondered why Nico hadn't just shadow traveled down to the bottom to wait for me. Then again, along the same line of thought, I could have just done the same. Maybe he wasn't thinking any straighter than I was. Everything had just happened in such a rush that my head was spinning somewhere far up above me. And so I kept running, racing against the heartbeat that was timing me, urging me forward.

The glowing red number on the display board caught my eye, and I briefly looked up. The next train was arriving in two minutes. If I could just make it to the bottom before then…

I ran even faster, though I hadn't even thought it was possible. I elbowed people out of the way, earning numerous indignant cries. Time was running out. But finally, the bottom of the escalator seemed to be getting closer. I began skipping stairs, sometimes leaping three at a time. The only reason I didn't fall was the massive crush of people surrounding me.

My feet hit the tile of the floor, and I burst through the immediate crowd, racing down towards the edge of the platform where the train would appear any second now.

Nico was thirty yards behind me. His longer stride was, as always, giving him an advantage over me, and I desperately put all my remaining strength into my legs. My feet, covered in blood, slipped and slid occasionally, and I grabbed onto the people surrounding me to stay upright.

Twenty feet till the edge of the platform… fifteen… ten… five… and I hit the brick wall, body pressing up against it for a brief moment before I turned to face the tracks. I could feel the wind howling out from the tunnel, hear the rumble of the train, and very faintly underneath that I could hear the hum of the third rail. I took all this in in a half second, curling my toes around the edge of the platform, feeling that melancholy, peaceful promise shaking through my bones.

A light appeared down the train tunnel, around the bend in the track. I could see the nose of the train, speeding towards me. This would have to be timed exactly right: I couldn't wait too long because Nico would catch up to me, but if I jumped too early, everyone would see. My brain considered all these things in a second.

I knew that I wouldn't be lost to him forever. For one, half-bloods nearly always went to Elysium. That was just how it happened. For another, well, Nico was a son of Hades. He had access to and free reign of the Asphodel Fields and Elysium; he could find me in death. He could summon me, if he felt so inclined. We wouldn't be apart forever.

The train was nearly upon me. I braced myself, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, opening all my other senses wide one final time. I could smell stale subway air, and acrid gasoline. I could hear the train thundering closer, the footsteps and conversation of people, the whispers as they stared at me, my heartbeat, and most of all Nico, yelling my name. His voice, strained, panicked, aching and echoing, coming closer and closer.

Then I flexed her knees, jumped a few inches, and let my body pitch gracefully forward.

The sudden, crushing impact wasn't what I expected. For one, it felt more like I had run into the train than the train had run into me. For another, it wasn't soul-crushing, mind-wrenching pain, just a dull thud in my side. And then, something felt rough against my shoulder. I shouldn't be feeling anything at all. Not that, not the arms on either side of me, and I shouldn't be hearing anyone breathing in my ear, either.

I opened my eyes to what I hoped was Elysium. I couldn't decide whether the sight that greeted me was a hundred times better or ten times worse.

Nico's jawline was the first thing my eyes landed on. My gaze skittered up his face, taking in his flared nostrils, his parted lips, and his eyes, staring intently at the wall in front of his face. My eyes trailed down the length of his arm to his hand, pressed flat and white-knuckled against the bricks. I could feel his chest, rising and falling again my side as he caught his breath, and realized I was breathing heavily as well.

My shoulder was beginning to hurt, so I shifted slightly, leaning into him instead. When I did, he dropped his head on my shoulder and pulled me closer with one arm.

"My gods, Clio, don't you ever dare try anything like that again. Ever." His voice was thick with relief, hints of panic still streaking it with a brittle, chalky undertone. "You hear me?"

I nodded and rested my cheek against his neck, hearing his pulse, listening to a heart other than my own.

"I don't care what I say to you, I don't care what happens." His voice gained a hint of strength and anger, and his hand slid down to the small of my back, the heat of his palm penetrating the fabric of my shirt as he pressed me relentlessly closer.

I didn't mind. Right now, I wanted to be close to him.

Naturally, he pulled away then, allowing me to scoot away from the wall a foot or so. His arms came tight around me once more as he watched me"Do you promise you will never do anything like that again?"

My eyes closed as I smiled. I pulled him down to peck his lips, and murmured, "I promise," resting my forehead against his and cupping a hand to his face.

I could feel him smile back as he raised his hand to cover mine, thumb stroking my own affectionately, oblivious to the blood seeping from my palm.

We stood there, swaying back and forth slightly. I was pleasantly surprised when Nico began to murmur to me, his voice a sing-songy whisper.

"There are objects of affection that can mesmerize the soul, there is always one addiction that just cannot be controlled…" His soft breath feathered gently across my face. It would have been easy for me to believe I had died and gone to Elysium. "You are mine, you are mine, you are mine, you are mine…"

I tucked my face against his neck, and let him rub my back. The pain was slowly registering, but I didn't mind; for now, it only reminded me how immensely grateful I was that Nico had saved me.

I did hiss in pain and recoil, however, when his hand brushed my shoulder. When we both turned to look, we found a series of scrapes from the brick wall. And suddenly, I could feel my feet burning; I hopped from one foot to the other, trying to find a way to stand that wouldn't hurt as bad. I took a quick second, balancing on one foot and lifting the other, twisting my head around to assess the damage. Nico, also seeing this, made a 'tsk' noise, and when I put her leg down, he carefully took my right hand, making a point to examine the injury there as well.

He sighed quietly. "Better bleeding a little than dead, I suppose."

I grinned impishly. He tried to shoot me a glare, as if to say, "The things I put up with for you", but ended up failing miserably and smiling back, more relieved than anything.

"Is everything okay here?"

A couple of employees were standing behind us, eyeing the two of us warily.

"We're fine now," Nico replied easily, turning. "Thanks for your concern; just a little mishap." Which made me sound like an escaped mental patient who tried to off herself every chance she got, but I didn't mind. I shifted my weight uncomfortably once more.

The uniformed men gave me looks saying they clearly agreed with the mental patient label. "Need any help with that, then?"

"No, thank you. I'll just be bringing her to the hospital now." And with that, he scooped my legs out from under me, carrying me easily past the men and towards the escalator.

On the ride up, a number of the commuters were shooting us very strange looks. Nico ignored them, staring straight up. "You're rather lucky I had money in my pocket when I chased out after you."

"You're lucky you were wearing shoes," I muttered. "Is the money still in your pocket?"

He paused for a moment, eyeing me. "Not sure."

"I'll check," I said, shrugging. "Where is it?"

"Back right." His mouth twitched a little.

I twisted a bit, reaching an arm around to slip a hand in his pocket. I laughed as I watched him shut his eyes and raise his jaw. He never changed. Very daintily, I plucked the cash from his pocket and handed it to him.

"See? Not so bad."

"Yeah, having half of New York watch you cop a feel on my ass is not so bad," he grumbled, glaring at the back of the woman in front of us.

I made a hurt, pouty face, which was quickly noticed and remedied with a brief kiss.

We made our way onto the crowded sidewalk, and Nico edged his way over to the curb. I raised my arm, waving for a cab; it took a few minutes before one pulled up beside us. When it did, Nico carefully slid mer into the backseat, and climbed in after me, pulling me close.

"Thank you," I murmured, nestling into my familiar place next to him. "And I'm sorry, I suppose."

"You suppose?" His voice was dry.

"Well, okay, I am. Sorry for what I did, and sorry for what I did before that."

He sighed into my hair. "I should apologize too. I'm sorry for what I said. If I never said that, we wouldn't be here."

"True. I'd probably be locked in the bathroom crying miserably and you'd be off who knows where. Just another typical fight."

"Since when do we have typical fights," he murmured, stroking my arm.

I was suddenly overcome by a wave of immense exhaustion. "Never, I suppose. But we're halfbloods. There's nothing typical about us." This elicited a laugh, and I smiled sleepily, snuggling closer and closing my eyes, falling asleep as the cabbie turned his head back towards us to complain about me bleeding on the upholstery.

**Ugh. Oh my God. This sucked. You have no idea how much this sucked. I really liked the idea when I was walking down the subway escalator listening to The Kill by Thirty Seconds to Mars (yes, it was inspired by that song), but I think in the end it turned out a little overdramatic and confusing.**

**Whatever. At least I forced myself to write something. *sigh* I'll get back into it eventually. I hope. I just have so much crap… **


End file.
